Surprise Guests for Thanksgiving

I love having company but these guests were a very special sort of Thanksgiving surprise!

Pierre alerted me to our first guest, the Carolina wren. He was perched on top of the barbecue grill on the deck. Pierre was darting from window to window, giving that catly trill that means he's on the hunt. He avoided knocking more plants down in the back room trying to get a better look. The little bird looked cold. His feathers were fluffed out. He stayed there for a half an hour while Pierre and I watched.

Around 3 o'clock I was heading back to the house from a walk with Shadow. As we walked down the driveway, we passed by a fallen pine tree. It was an old diseased tree with lots of woodpecker holes in it that toppled down in the nor'easter storm. I heard rustling in the fallen leaves around it. Suddenly I noticed dozens of birds about the size of pigeons hopping up and down and darting about. "Quail!" I thought. I'd seen them once on Long Island out in Syosset, near the horse back riding stable where I worked. But I'd never seen the so close!

A quick consultant with my Peterson's Field Guide confirmed the quail sighting, but they were actually Bobwhites! I'd always wanted to see Bobwhites. I used to read the Trixie Belden mystery series as a kid. Remember the secret club the kids had in the book series - the Bobwhites of the Glen? Ever since then, I always wanted to see a Bobwhite, and now I have!

The One Eyed Peacock

Yesterday afternoon I'm sitting at my desk finishing up some emails at the end of a busy day. I've got our local radio station, WFLO, playing in the background. Every Friday around 5 pm, they announce the lost and found pets. The announcer is droning on, going over the list of missing dogs and cats. Then I hear him fumble around a bit. "There's ah...a one eyed peacock missing from the Farmville area...anyone with information please call...."

I sit up and listen. A one-eyed peacock? Did I just hear that right?

As if on cue, the announcer repeats it now in a stronger voice, as if to emphasize this is no joke. "If you've seen this bird, please call..."

How in the world can you NOT spot a one-eyed peacock wandering around downtown Farmville, the major town in the area replete with Wal-Mart, Centra Southside Hospital, dozens of restaurants and Longwood University?

Then I start laughing even harder. I think I know someone who knows the owner of this bird. Our little church choir has a tradition that on someone's birthday, we go out after practice for ice cream at Merck's. One lady brings peacock feathers for the birthday boy or girl to adorn the birthday hat so we can get good and silly. There's someone who works in her office who raises peacocks...and I think she lives in Farmville.

So, not only is it quite plausible that there is indeed a loose peacock running around by the Lowe's in Farmville, but it's possible I could get in touch with his owner.

This is what happens when you move into a small rural town!

Quick story: Hubby and I were on vacation one year and we stopped to visit a home owned by Audubon, the famous illustrator. After the house tour, we sat at a picnic table near the parking lot to eat our lunch. They had lots of exotic birds wandering about...various plumed chickens, turkeys, etc....and peacocks. One stunning white peacock came nosing over. He seemed to be begging. Hubby asked me, "What do peacocks eat?" I had no idea. We had some seedless grapes in the cooler, so Hubby threw one to the peacock. That was it. It was like peacock candy. The white peacock was eating green grapes out of hubby's hand. It was surreal. He followed us back to the car, but alas, another group of picnickers attracted him, and off went our new found friend.

PS: Big thank you to Liz from the Prince Edward County Cooperative Extension Office for her kind telephone call on Thursday. Liz is a fan of this blog and called to just say hello. What can I say except that for a writer to hear a bit of praise is like throwing a grape to a peacock. Thank you dear Liz and hope you can stop by this spring to visit Seven Oaks!

My Obsession with Bearded Irises

My obsession with bearded irises, Siberian iris, and all things iris continues to grow. Hubby bought me a beautiful encyclopedia of iris breeds that was on clearance and I've got that plus some other iris books out in the living room now. Each evening, I thumb through them, dreaming. Red or blue? Bicolored or solid? It's hard to decide.

Bearded irises grew fairly well on Long Island but they thrive here in Virginia. Each spring, I see clumps and thickets blooming in glorious profusion at the edge of farm driveways, by sheds, even in ditches alongside the roads.

My goal is to plant at least one new variety each year. Last year, I planted a soft pink bicolor and a blue and was rewarded with blooms from the soft pink. The iris we moved from Huntington are thriving, so much so that Hubby remarked yesterday I may have to divide them again. I think it's too soon and want to give them another year or two.

In the meantime, as the cold weather descends and I start cleaning up the flower garden, I'm trying to decide where I can fit in more bearded iris. Should they go by the pathway, or in the back? Near the butterfly garden, or on the edge of the woods? Like the daffodil and narcissus bulbs we planted in the orchard, I want to plant new iris bulbs each year, until the garden is covered with them.

I know it's not time to plant them. It's not even time to order them. But I've already started window shopping...

Can you imagine how beautiful it's going to be when I get those bearded iris all along the edges of the woods?

November Garden Surprises

Back on Long Island, the November garden was a dreary mass of matted oak and maple leaves and the occasional surprise burst of orange from a marigold that had somehow escaped the frosts. It's different here in south central Virginia. Although we'd had some cold nights and one good, rip roaring frost (27 degrees F), the days zoom back in the 60's and '70s. The rolling hills and sheltered spots also seem to produce amazing micro climates. I've got cool weather annuals like my snapdragons just fine and dandy back by the garden shed, but a few were nipped in the flower garden next to the driveway. Ditto for the petunias; they're still blooming next to the garage, but just green out in the flower garden.

And the vegetable garden never ceases to offer surprises. The garlic is doing well, sending up robust shoots that are making my mouth water with thoughts of Italian recipes to make next year, but so is the Chard. Not unexpected, but it's rapidly overtaking the bed again. The spinach struggled along, strangely so, since I expected it to be more vigorous, but the biggest surprise has been the calendula. It's an herb whose flowers are used for skin balms. I looked out the kitchen window this morning and saw some orange peeking out from behind the catnip. And there were new calendula blossoms on a plant I thought was dead. The picture today is my little bed of calendula. I harvested the blossoms, and have them in a Mason jar next to my lavender; both will come in handy this winter.

I'm loathe to dig up anything right now. Plants that look dead revive under a few days of warmth and rain, and plants that "should", according to the garden books, be dug up and discarded are still going strong, so I'm just leaving everything alone and enjoying the long slide into winter.

The Mouse

Yes, another rodent visitor. We're noticing they come in when it's cold or rainy outside. Well, if I were a field mouse, I would too. Pierre woke us up at 4 a.m. on Thursday morning vigorously playing with something on the bedroom floor. I assumed it was one of his toy chickens, the ones he enjoys bringing upstairs and lining up on his little blanket. So I rolled over and went back to sleep. I awoke at 6, took care of Shadow, got my coffee and headed upstairs to work. As I was answering email, I heard a muffled shout from down the hallway. Hubby emerged from the bedroom. "Pierre's got a mouse."

"His green one or his blue one?"

"Neither. A real one."

He had the little creature cornered behind the night table. We went about our day, leaving Pierre on guard duty. Pierre kept his vigil all day long, barely snatching a cat nap for the next several hours. The mouse never moved.

Finally, Hubby could stand it no longer. He decided to take action.

I heard a triumphant shout. "I got him!"

He walked into my office holding a lid on top of an empty plastic container. The mouse was standing on tip toe inside, nose twitching, looking indignant.

"Nabbed him on the stairs."

Score: Pierre, 2. Hubby, 2. It's a tie.

In the middle of the nor'easter, with branches snapping and the wind and rain howling, Hubby walked out into our woods. He was gone for about 10 minutes. He came back soaking wet.

"Where in the world did you go?"

"All the way down to the fallen tree. I let the mouse go there. At least he has a place to hide from the storm."

"The owl might get him." We've got a wonderful Great Horned owl living in the woods on that side of the property. We hear her every night, hunting.

"Yeah, but at least that's nature doing what it does..." He shrugged and brushed something off his maroon sweatshirt. "You know. Not...playing him to death, the way Pierre would. Fast, natural death."

"What's that on your shirt?"

"Saltine crumbs. I left him a cracker. He's probably hungry."

I told him that St. Francis of Assissi would have been proud of him.

Nor Easter

This nor'easter won't stop today. The wind has been howling since yesterday, and it's pouring. It's cold too - only in the forties. Hubby refuses to turn the heat on. The house is around 60 degrees. I'm finishing up a few things I can only do on the main computer, then taking my laptop downstairs, lighting a fire, and working there for the warmth.

Shadow is so funny in the rain. She hates rain. Now when she sees me take out an umbrella, you can just see her face fall. "Oh no....rain. No ball playing today." When I walk her along the street, she keeps turning her head around and looking up at the sky, as if seeking the source of whoever is hurling raindrops on her. She looks absolutely offended at the rain, as if it's beneath her dignity to get soaking wet.

One good thing about stormy weather...it makes Pierre all cuddly. As I write this, my tough, independent cat has discovered sitting on my lap while I work. He's too big for that, however, and sort of drapes all 17 pounds of his king cat self across my lap, resting his chin on the arm of my chair.

My garden looks like it's drowning, and we've got a tree across the driveway. Happy fall! Now I am heading down to a warm fire and continuing my workday...

Geraniums

My plant room is now filled with friends to overwinter, mostly geraniums. I've got a soft spot in my heart for geraniums. They always remind me of my parents and Mr. Hoffman, the kindly neighbor from Floral Park who I've mentioned before.

My dad grew red geraniums in window boxes outside of our dining room. In our New York City suburban house, they attracted a hummingbird - a rarity on Long Island. I was in the fifth grade when I saw a hummingbird for the first time.

My seat at the dinner table had me facing the window that overlooked the driveway, with the window box full of red geraniums. Suddenly there was a flash of emerald and an odd hum - and there was a hummingbird, drinking nectar from the geraniums. I had never seen a hummingbird, and ever since then, I've been absolutely fascinated with these tiny birds.

I love the beautiful reds, hot pinks and light pinks and the foliage of geraniums. The smell isn't so pleasant from the foliage, but I like the diversity of foliage on them too - the frilly, frothy, dark green, light green, and green with burgundy stripe foliage.

I managed to save my reds and one pink geranium before the frost. Next year if I can find seeds or plants online for scented geraniums, I'm hoping to add some to the flower garden.

One great thing about gerniums; Pierre hates the taste of them. One nibble and he was cured of his desire to shred Mommy's plants. If only I was so lucky with the others (and my bookmarks; every single book mark I own is now decorated with cat fang marks.)

You can never have enough geraniums!

The photo below is my plant room...sorry it is so dark; I can't quite figure out how to get the lighting right in my little room.

Fall Cleanup

I am sore beyond words today. We spent a little over four hours doing garden clean up. And yard clean up. And clean up of clean up. Since the last several weekends have been so rainy, we had a lot to catch up on around here. First, we cleaned up all the left over bits and pieces from the deck and walkway construction. We piled the decorative stones that were left over into the cart behind the riding mower and took them up to the flower garden, where the large thick stones will help prevent erosion. My butterfly garden continues to turn into a sand trap as more sand from the walkway above leaks into it with every rain storm. Never again will I even think about using a sand base for a garden pathway, particularly on a slope. What in the world was I thinking? Argh!

Next, we took all the lumber out into the woods and tossed it into the odd little crevice in the woods. It's an area that looks like a giant crack in the ground and goes down about 12 feet. We've found bits and pieces of old farm things there, like rusty oil cans and bits of old paint cans, so we know the last people to have farmed the land used it as their refuse pile too. But we only put our old lumber bits and pieces there and a few old pallets, hoping that nature will reduce them to chips over time.

We put landscape fabric around the forsythia we're trying to grow into a hedge at the end of the driveway, mulched it, and moved all the big rocks we'd placed around the driveway back up into the flower garden so Hubby could weed whack the edges. As soon as I turned over the first stone, I knew we'd made the right decision to do our clean up; a black widow spider was hiding under the rock. Since it was cold, she moved slowly and I was able to kill her, but several other rocks revealed black widows of around the same size. I think clearing away the old rocks and bits of lumber from near the house was smart. I hate to use sprays, but I have used them in the garage to keep the spider population down as well as the insects they feed upon. If they don't have anything to eat, they'll go away (I hope). I made Hubby get his work gloves to pick up the rest of the rocks. Black widow bites we do not need around here...

I also pulled up the spent vegetable plants such as the peppers. We opened up the pickled peppers I canned this fall, my first project, and they were so yummy I could have eaten the whole jar on the spot! Best of all, they didn't upset my tummy the way raw peppers do...definitely a keeper. That recipe book is excellent. It is called Preserving the Harvest and I have made the awesome pear butter recipe from it that's infused with ginger and orange (and we can't get enough of that) as well as the peppers. I'm including a link to it, below if you are interested.

I had cleaned the first floor of the house in the morning, and it was Hubby's dad's 81st birthday, so I'd baked a double chocolate-chocolate-fudge cake. After collapsing on the sofa in front of a roaring fire, chicken roasting in the oven and the smell of double chocolate-chocolate-fudge cake suffusing the house, Pierre curled up next to me, and we snuggled in to finish reading a great book "Abraham Lincoln: A Man of Faith and Courage." I highly recommend this book too - it was a wonderful collection of stories about one of the most amazing men America has produced, Abraham Lincoln, stitched together to form a biography of sorts.

So that was my day. Today after church and shopping in town I'm heading home to plant bulbs. We have to dig 40 holes and stick 10 bulbs in each. I know I'm going to be sore tonight, but what a feast for the eyes that will be this spring!

Toto, We're Not in Manhattan Anymore

My neighbor Patty at Shady Acres Farm called me up and said, "We've got babies, and bottle feeding is around lunch time...come on over." So I went to see her Boer goats. She has gorgeous animals that are friendly and so well cared for. One mama died, leaving triplets orphaned, so they are bottle fed. Another mama had four and not enough milk, so some are being bottle fed. I held a week old baby in my arms and fed her a bottle. The babies wagged their little tails and followed me around. It's so hard to remember that they grow up!

The first picture is me feeding baby #44. The next picture shows the bottle feeding station they rigged up to handle all the hungry mouths. Next is another baby, #42. And two sleepy heads napping in the sun.

No, Toto, I'm definitely not in Manhattan anymore!

Weekend Update

Patty emailed me to say that my favorite goat, Ginger, died this weekend. She's now bottle feeding the triplets plus another goat had four babies. That's unusual and mama goat doesn't have enough milk for four, so Patty's now got several babies to bottle feed. I'm invited to take a turn on the bottle feeding. I wish my day wasn't so packed with client work or I'd jump into the car and head over. Hopefully I can squeeze in some time this week, although the first week of the month is always on the busy side.

Now that the high holy day of candy is past (Halloween), I'm recommitting to my food plan and going back to "raw until dinner", or eating fresh, natural and wholesome uncooked plant foods until dinnertime. I do have yogurt-based smoothies for breakfast but the yogurt helps my body so much I have kept it in the diet. I hit up Wal-Mart after church yesterday and stocked up on produce, so I think I am all set!